


My Brothers Are Hitting On Your Brothers

by Yaoihamkitty



Category: Junjou Romantica
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bromance, Developing Relationship, Emotional Baggage, Eventual Smut, M/M, Romance, slow burn at the beginning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-08-17 06:27:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8133703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yaoihamkitty/pseuds/Yaoihamkitty
Summary: Hiroki and Akihiko are best friends with deep-seated romantic problems, and Haruhiko just wants to be loved but is going at it the wrong way. AU, where Akihiko and Haruhiko gets along alright, and Nowaki and the Takahashis are pretty much bros.Also posted on ff under same username.





	1. Wingman

"Thinking of buying some flowers, Kamijou-sensei?"

Kamijou Hiroki snapped his head back so fast he cricked his neck, cinnamon eyes landing squarely on a tall man with silver hair, who was standing right behind him and carrying a bulky brown envelope in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other.

"Wh-what?! What are you talking about?" Hiroki spluttered, his eyes wide and brows furrowed in indignant panic. He quickly grabbed his coffee mug and raised it to his lips, taking a large gulp, and hoped that the porcelain was big enough to hide his reddening face.

His best friend slid into the seat across him with a bored expression. "Don't even bother lying to me, Hiroki," he sighed, placing the envelope on the table between them and sliding it over to Hiroki's space. "I've known you for ages and besides, I think I deserve to know the reason why I had to come all the way here instead of meeting up at the usual place," he complained, setting a pack of cigarettes and a lighter on the table. "For three times in a row now."

Hiroki sent the man a withering look. "Nothing's up," he insisted, before his treacherous eyes betrayed him and traveled to the window once more, observing the flower shop across the street. Pots of colorful blossoms and shrubs were lined up neatly on display along the front of the store and a very tall man tended to them, wearing a long black apron and a slightly crumpled white button up shirt. The sleeves were rolled all the way up to his elbows, and they revealed strong, toned forearms.

Hiroki watched the muscles flex enticingly from his seat and his companion followed his gaze, before letting out a low whistle. "That's one handsome guy right there," he smirked, raising an elegant silver brow, "but honestly I've never thought of you as being the stalker type."

Hiroki wrenched his eyes away from the glass and turned to glare at his friend. " _Shut up Akihiko,_ " he warned, but there was no real bite to his words. Rubbing the crick on his neck, he muttered, "And by the way, I'm not stalking him - I'm just  _watching_ him."

Akihiko's smirk only widened, perfect teeth gleaming in the filtered sunlight. "Ah, but what's the difference, Hiroki? As far as I know you've been coming here for weeks now," he chuckled, before leaning forward conspiratorially. "And so, have you two done it yet?"

Hiroki choked on his coffee and coughed loudly, the hot liquid scalding his throat, and causing the other customers around them to look at him in alarm. He could feel his face growing redder by the second as he quickly wiped his mouth with a napkin and growled, "of course not, you moron!"  _Seriously,_ _why did this guy always jump to the most perverted conclusions?_

Across the table, his best friend ignored the insult and instead squinted at him with curious violet eyes. Resting his chin on steepled fingers, he suddenly asked, "So what's up with you and Shinoda? Have you ditched him yet?"

Hiroki's face darkened at the question and he quickly picked up the envelope in front of him – he didn't like where this conversation was going the least bit. "No. It's – you're being ridiculous," he replied, pulling out a manuscript from the envelope and settled down to peruse it, purposefully ignoring Akihiko and hoping that the man would let the topic rest.

On a regular day, he would have gobbled up the other man’s work like slices of salmon belly sashimi, but this time, he found it hard to focus on the text in front of him. How very unusual, considering that written words had always been a form of escape for the assistant professor. An unpleasant ache seared in his chest without warning and he unconsciously wrapped his arms around himself, willing for it to subside.

Akihiko was silent for the next few minutes, save for the light drumming of fingers on the table and the gentle clinking of a coffee cup being set down on its saucer. "Something happened, again," he finally said, and leaned back on his seat. "Tell me what the bastard did so I can smash his face in. It's about time, really."

"It's nothing. Just the usual arguments," dismissed Hiroki, not looking up from the manuscript in his hand.

Akihiko clicked his tongue impatiently. "I can tell it's something serious this time. What is it? Another suspicion of an affair going on?"

The brunette froze and opened his mouth as if to say something, before closing it again, pushing the stack of papers back on the table. There was no use lying to his best friend, the man could read him like an open book. It was just that God knew how desperately Hiroki had been trying to keep his thoughts from straying to Shinoda for the past few weeks, and now that Akihiko wanted to talk about it – he wasn't sure if he was ready.

"Out with it, don't bottle it all up," his author friend pressed on, "you've been moping about long enough." Reaching out a large hand, he roughly tousled Hiroki's hair. "You look like a dead person, Hiroki, and anyone can see that you haven't been eating or sleeping well. Plus we're practically brothers, I'll feel offended if you don't trust me enough with this."

The smaller man bit his lip and stared at his friend. Although he found Akihiko annoying most of the time, he had to admit that the guy was a truly great friend and had been a brother he'd never had – the only one who had stayed and supported him throughout the years of sour moods and insults. He'd always been an ally.

Exhaling through his nose in defeat, Hiroki started hesitantly. "I- It's not a suspicion… I actually tailed him this time and saw him meeting up with a woman." Saying it out loud actually made him feel extra sick, the coffee churning in his empty stomach.

At this, the blonde's eyes went wide and his hands slowly balled into fists. "And you're positive she's not just a colleague or a friend?" he probed.

Hiroki nodded, cradling his head in his hands wearily. "Yeah, I followed them for quite a bit and… and it was definitely a date."  _They'd gone to a love hotel_ , was what he wanted to add but Hiroki didn't think he had it in him to say it to Akihiko; hell he was just overall pissed at how pathetic he'd become. Why hadn't he confronted them when he saw them? So much for someone hailed as the 'Devil Kamijou'.

The author let out a quiet snarl and stood up all of a sudden, bumping the table in his anger and the coffee cup clattered loudly against the saucer. Hiroki quickly grabbed his wrist and pulled him back down, before they could make a scene; he’d forgotten how sensitive Akihiko was to this sort of topic.

"Leave him, now. Call that son of a bitch and dump him right now."

"I- I will, but not now Akihiko, I can't do it now," Hiroki replied, squeezing the wrist in his hand. A deep frown creased between his eyebrows. "Just give me some time."

The taller man stared at him and huffed, before sitting back down reluctantly. "Yeah that's what you've been saying for the past 3 years. Listen up Hiroki, going down this path – continuing with this relationship – isn't going to lead you anywhere pleasant," he said matter-of-factly, "trust me on this."

The brunette scowled. "I know that, it's just that I…"

_I love him._

He swallowed the words back down his throat and looked out the window again. Still outside his store, the tall florist was now chatting with an old woman, a soft, genuine smile resting on his face. He looked like the complete opposite of his lover.

"Ugh honestly I just feel so angry and tired of everything," Hiroki grumbled, shaking his head. "Part of me wish that I can just erase him from my memories, or maybe even be pathetic and fly off to some distant country or whatever... but then the other part thinks that what I should do, is to go out and find some attractive guys to fuck around with,” he blurted out viciously, gripping his mug so tightly his knuckles had turned white. “And get back at the cheating asshole, hurt him just like how he's hurting  _me_."

Akihiko hummed in agreement and nodded. "Well, I say go have fun and fuck someone else, just hurt him back. That way whatever happens, you get to even out the score." He tilted his head towards the window. "You can start with him," he said, pointing to the florist across the street, "he's good-looking enough for you I bet."

Narrowing his eyes, the blonde examined the man further. "Hmph, although he's not really my type to be honest." He turned to fix Hiroki with an interested expression. "I take it you two know each other? You're not the type to get smitten by a stranger."

Hiroki scowled again.  _Was he really that easy to read?_  Ah, the perks and drawbacks that come with a childhood best friend.

"Yeah we kind of talked a little. It's a long story, and it's the type that goes with alcoholic beverages, not coffee," he mumbled, rubbing his forehead with his hands.

"And that's what we shall do tonight then," Akihiko declared, gathering his things about and preparing to leave.

"Wait, what about the manuscript? Don't you have a deadline to meet?"

"It's fine, don't worry about it. I'll get it done somehow."

Hiroki sighed. "Bakahiko, don't you always miss your deadlines?"

"Oh shut it Hiroki, one night isn't going to make a difference. Plus you don't have classes tomorrow. Perfect timing."

"Perfect timing my ass, you're ditching work," the brunette snorted.

"Let's go," ignored his best friend, motioning for him to stand up, "we can grab some dinner, you really need to eat." He started to weave his way out of the coffee shop before abruptly stopping in his tracks. "Ah but before that, let's get some flowers. It's right across the street anyway."

Hiroki blanched. "What? What do you need flowers for all of a sudden?"

"It's Aikawa's birthday tomorrow. Just thought I'll leave them in the living room for her to find when she comes over to nag in the morning. Maybe it'll get her off my back for a few days." Akihiko looped an arm around his elbow and started tugging him across the road. "Come on, I want to see the guy for myself."

 _I knew it!_  Hiroki dug his heels onto the asphalt and struggled to remain in place, however Akihiko was much larger and stronger than he was, and thus his efforts were futile – he was literally getting dragged along like a suitcase. "Bakahiko! Quit it! I don't want to–!"

The author just laughed, clearly enjoying himself. "Oh why not Hiroki? Let's get your  _acquaintance_  to recommend me something good, shall we?"

"Oi Bakahiko! I'm seriously getting pissed off here! I told you I don't want– "

Akihiko pushed open the door to the shop and Hiroki was shoved bodily inside, nearly tripping over his own feet. He whirled around, whispering violently under his breath, "Bakahiko, I swear I'm gonna kill– ", only to find himself alone. The man in question had remained outside the store, lighting up a cigarette on the sidewalk and grinning smugly at him. Hiroki could feel his blood boil in exasperation and embarrassment; he couldn't wait to smack that perfect silver blonde head. He’d already placed one hand on the door and was about to step back outside, when a soft, bright voice called out from behind him.

"Good evening Kamijou-san, I'm so happy you're back!"

Heart suddenly racing in his chest, Hiroki slowly turned around to find himself standing in front of a tall, blue-eyed man who was beaming down at him, a small potted plant cradled in his arm. The brunette felt the heat spread across his face, and he cleared his throat rather nervously.

"Ah, Kusama, good evening."


	2. It's Always Like This With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is just a short flashback.

"Finally we get to spend time together and you're glued to your phone," Hiroki spat out one night, springing up from the couch, unable to restrain his growing anger and restlessness. The phase had gone on for so long this time that he didn't think he could, or should ignore it any longer.

Much to his annoyance, underneath all the resentment at being so poorly treated, a coil of panic still managed to slither through like a traitorous snake. He had to admit that the fear of being abandoned by his lover haunted him at the very core. They had been together for ages after all.

Shinoda glanced up absently from the cellphone in his hand. "What's wrong?" he asked, yawning and stretching his legs over the space on the couch that Hiroki had occupied a few seconds ago.

The younger man glared at him – trust Shinoda to not have heard a word he'd said. "You know, when you're obviously avoiding me, it kinda pisses me off."

Looking mildly surprised, Shinoda raised an eyebrow. "Well that's unusual, you asking for attention," he remarked, pocketing the device away. "And plus, I'm not avoiding you."

Hiroki felt his irritation spill over the edge. This bastard was actually playing stupid with him.

"Attention?!" he asked incredulously, stepping forwards to stand right in front of Shinoda. "I'm not looking for goddamn attention you asshole, I'm asking you to be a decent partner! Not necessarily a _great_ partner, no, just a fucking _decent_ one is all I'm asking!"

He clenched his fists, breathing harshly through his nose, and glowered at the man who was still sprawled out on the couch and watching him with calm, unblinking eyes.

"You don't pick up my goddamn calls, you take hours to reply my texts, and you keep cancelling any dates I managed to schedule in with you!" Hiroki continued, the words escaping his mouth before he could stop them. "Do you actually think that's okay? And you always have these bullshit excuses ready whenever I say I want to come over and –"

He quickly stopped himself.

"And?"

Heated cinnamon eyes slid off Shinoda's face and lingered onto one of the photographs stuck on the wall behind the couch. Two men embraced beside a glittering ocean, against the backdrop of an equally blue and cloudless sky - and beads of water clung onto their skin, the matching giddy smiles stretched wide across their faces, and an arm wrapped itself intimately around a trim waist.

_And you don't touch me anymore_.

He sighed and growled through gritted teeth. "Nothing."

A heavy silence flooded the room and they just stared at each other, neither of them saying a word. All that Hiroki could hear was the distant ticking of the clock and the steady, painful beat of his own heart. He felt hurt, frustrated, and livid – livid that he sounded like an embarrassing, needy idiot. If Shinoda truly loved him, he wouldn't have pushed him to the edge like this, would he? Treating him like he was insignificant for nearly five months… Who did the bastard think he was messing around with? Some nobody?

Shinoda straightened up on the couch and released an impatient huff, breaking the silence. "Hiroki, it's called work. Surely now that you're a working man yourself, you do know that life isn't just about going on dates, don't you?"

The assistant professor gaped at him, his eyes wide with disbelief. _What the fuck_. So this was how the jerk wanted to handle things.

Anybody who knew Kamijou Hiroki could testify on his incredible work ethic – always the most hard working and disciplined member among his peers (since his schooldays, really), he placed great priority on one's achievements. After all these years as someone from his inner circle, he was aware that Shinoda knew this very well. So well in fact, he took advantage of it and most likely used it to…

_OK, wait. Relax._

Hiroki took a deep breath and stepped forwards, bending down to look at the other man in the eye. "Don't talk to me like I'm some brat. And don't you fucking start with the age difference bullshit, I'm telling you," he hissed. "You know I take work seriously and I'd never ask you to screw work for me. It's just that you haven't been calling me back and what's wrong with letting me stay over on your off days? We've done it for years without trouble and I know you don't work 7 days a week!"

Shinoda just groaned tiredly in response, much like one would do to a child throwing a tantrum, but didn't say a word and simply lit the cigarette dangling on his lips. Hiroki squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed noiselessly, fighting the lump working its way up his throat _. No, there was no way he would cry over this._

Every time Shinoda went through these "phases" and they managed to work it out, Hiroki had always prayed for it to be the last. But to his disappointment, it would always happen again, again, and again. It was a depressing, never-ending cycle. And a 5 month phase was just way too hard on him; as much as he loved the man, Hiroki was truly reaching the end of his tether.

"You know – are you tired of this or something? Bored of me?" he asked, voice miraculously steady. He really just wanted to get to the bottom of things once and for all, although he'd be lying if he said he wasn't afraid of knowing the truth.

Shinoda's eyes softened a little as he shook his head, a thin wisp of smoke escaping his lips and rising to the ceiling. "No, Hiroki, I'm not bored or tired of you."

"Then what… is there someone else?"

"No."

"I don't believe you."

"It really is work Hiroki, and I've told you that I have a policy to not touch my clients. So stop worrying."

_How about you stop fucking lying?_

Hiroki looked down at his clenched fists. "Well it seems pretty clear you don't want me around though. Do you want to just end things then?" His lip quivered and he casually raised a hand to cover his wet eyes. Everything was so frustrating.

Shinoda didn't reply him and merely stared at the burning end of his cigarette, sitting completely still. Suddenly deciding that he didn't want to stick around to hear the answer, Hiroki quickly grabbed his bag.

"Actually you know what, I'll just leave," he announced, striding towards the door.

Shinoda's hand shot out and caught his wrist, holding him in place."Hiroki, don't… Come on, I'm sorry," he apologized. "Please… just stay."

The younger man froze in his tracks and held his breath when he felt smooth lips nuzzle the back of his hand. His eyes slowly slid shut, as part relief and part self-loathing washed through him.

_Shinoda had stopped him. Shinoda still wanted him._

They ended up making frantic love that night, with Hiroki clinging tightly onto Shinoda, the tears blurring his vision, as he relished the familiar weight of the body pressing on top of him, and the shape of the cock pounding into him. He was weak, and he knew it. He hated it.

And it was two weeks later that Shinoda returned back to normal, spending weekends at his apartment, smiling at him, kissing him, and making his god awful stir-fries like nothing had ever happened. Thus once more, Hiroki stayed, silently promising to himself that this time would be the last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry if this bored you guys :( I know many of you probably don't care about Shinoda, but I felt the need to lay out Hiroki's relationship with him.
> 
> Next chapter will be Hiroki and Nowaki's first meeting, and the events that led up to it.
> 
> Thank you for reading! ;D


	3. Everything's Changed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hiroki gets his heart broken and meets Nowaki

The air was crisp and somewhat chilly that particular Saturday, signifying the first hints of an early autumn arriving in Tokyo. It was the perfect excuse to put on a hoodie – not exactly Hiroki's regular choice of clothing, but was certainly proving useful at the moment. He tugged the soft fabric down over his face, stared at his cellphone and tapped absent-mindedly on the screen, his eyes occasionally darting towards the popular dessert store behind him. The glass windows were see-through and Hiroki could see that it was packed to the brim with customers, mostly consisting of women and couples out on a date.

The woman sitting at the corner table was rather beautiful. She was pale and physically much smaller than him, her jet-black hair cascading over one shoulder to frame a delicate face. She ate daintily, and her petite hands would cover her deep, scarlet lips whenever she laughed, meticulously painted nails reflecting the artificial light. Unlike him, she smiled often, and seemed friendly and pleasant.

Unlike him, she was very much a woman.

Even Hiroki could tell that the man sitting across her was clearly enjoying her company; from the glimmer in his eyes, the animated hand gestures, to the smile constantly tugging on his lips – the one Hiroki had dubbed the 'professional smile', one that was meant to please and deceive. It looked so fake and plastic to his eyes, but still nothing less than stunning.

The assistant professor knew that smile very well, having succumbed to it himself five whole years ago, when he'd just been a young university student working towards his degree. It felt like ages ago, and yet Hiroki could still recall that day as though it'd just happened yesterday: the feel of his shirt sticking to his skin in the muggy summer heat, the glare of the setting sun blinding his eyes, and the messenger bag slapping against his thigh as he walked home – when a man leaning against an office door had then called out to him with the most dazzling smile on his face.

"Looking for student accommodation?" he'd offered, his hands in his pockets in an easy casual manner.

Despite already living in a fairly enviable apartment by himself, Hiroki couldn't resist following the man inside, and he hadn't been able to escape ever since.

 _You're overthinking things again_ , he chided himself,picking at a stray thread on his sleeve, _and they could really just be talking about work, why do you always jump to the worst conclusions?_ Hiroki slapped his cheek lightly. _Stop being such a negative n_ _ancy, you're a full-grown man, Kamijou Hiroki._

And yet he couldn't stop himself from noticing the lack of papers, folders, brochures, a tablet, anything – something to reassure him that this was indeed a work-related meeting. After all, Shinoda's excuse for rejecting Hiroki's suggestion of meeting up for dinner, had been that a sudden appointment had popped up out of the blue.

"On a Saturday?" Hiroki remembered asking, and Shinoda's voice had sounded distracted over the phone.

"Yeah, the prospective buyer is moving here from Osaka next month, and will be in Tokyo this weekend. There's a high chance I can get this deal in the bag, and I've been trying to sell this place since May. Sorry."

Hiroki didn't object, in fact he'd never did when it came to their jobs. As long as it was work-related, then it couldn't be helped. Nevertheless, a familiar gnawing sensation ate at his gut: Shinoda had also bailed out on him for the last two weeks. Was this the beginning of another phase?

Hiroki wasn't a stupid man, he had an inkling as to what was going on each time it happened. It was just that he'd found it much easier to feign ignorance and focus on his career, instead of acknowledging the evident cracks forming in their relationship - which is something that Akihiko had called out on him time and time again.

* * *

" _You're doing nothing but deluding yourself, Hiroki," Akihiko commented over a few e_ _mpty bottles of wine. "Deliberate_ _ignorance is merely a cowardly act. He's never going to learn his lesson this way, you idiot. Are you a masochist or something?"_

_If Akihiko hadn't just dropped 60,000 yen on that night's drinking tab, Hiroki would've punched him._

" _At least find out what's up because if you don't, you won't be able to make a pro_ _per decision," the author continued_ _, leaning forwards to pour himself mor_ _e wine. "And stop letting him make a fool out of you_ _. You know, you get pretty stupid when it comes to him. "_

 _Hiroki groaned and thunked his forehead loudly on the table, his brain feeling slow_ _and heavy from all the alcohol; honestly he didn't get how Akihiko could still be so lucid._ _"Right, right, Great Lord Usami-sensei, youngest Naomori Award winner everrr…"_

_Akihiko chuckled over the rim of his glass and reached out a hand to ruffle his hair. "Anyway, the longer you keep this going on, the more it'll hurt later. So stop wasting your time, alright?"_

* * *

 

Finally deciding to listen to Akihiko's advice, Hiroki had waited outside Shinoda's apartment that morning and spent half the day stealthily tailing after him, ducking into shops, hiding behind walls and crowds of people, and all the while compulsively tugging on his hood. Apparently it'd looked highly suspicious, because at one point he had to buy a bento box at a convenience store in order to prove his innocence, when the cashier there insisted that his skulking around was definitely dodgy and up to no good. He felt too nervous to eat it though.

Shinoda and the mystery woman hung around Shibuya for lunch then headed to Shinjuku, where they spent an insane amount of time shopping _._ The real estate agent continuously dished out compliments at the various things she tried on, and Hiroki had to fight the overwhelming urge to knock the man out cold.

 _Relax_ , _he's just trying to get on a client's good side,_ he reassured himself, as he pretended to sift through a box of fluffy key chains by the door, watching them interact from the corner of his eye. _And_ _also it is_ _ **not**_ _a date, he's only taking her souvenir-shopping_.

He could almost hear Akihiko scoff at his train of thought.

And not twenty minutes later, Hiroki had to use every ounce of his willpower to not strangle Shinoda with his necktie right then and there, when he saw him paying for a dress. He seethed and curled his fists, crumpling the polo shirt he was pretending to inspect; this whole thing hadn't seemed like a business meeting at all, in fact it'd seemed like a damned date to him. The constant flirting and giggling were infuriating enough, and now Shinoda was buying her stuff? He felt like kicking something.

But then, what if this was just a marketing ploy or some sort of innocent bribery?As a lecturer, he might not understand what people in sales do, he reasoned. And yet...

 

" _You're doing nothing but deluding yourself, Hiroki."_

 

The meaningful glances, the lingering touches… all too friendly and intimate for them to be purely on professional terms. Who was he kidding, really? The truth was staring at him right in the face.

 

" _Deliberate_ _ignorance is merely a cowardly act."_

 

Hiroki chewed on his bottom lip. Yeah, the idea of breaking up with Shinoda scared him alright.

By the time streaks of red stained the dimming amber sky overhead, the brunette could tell that they were making their way towards Kabukicho, which upset him a little. Date or not, he wasn't happy that Shinoda had ditched him to go there with a woman. Playing tour guide again? Why couldn't she check the place out herself when she moves here next month?

He had half a mind to confront them by now but decided against it; as much as it scared him, the curiosity had won over and he wanted to see what Shinoda was really up to all this time. He felt the need to see it with his own eyes - to witness his lover betray him firsthand - in order to truly give up.

Perhaps Akihiko was right, and he was a masochist after all.

As expected from a weekend night, the red light district was teeming with both locals and tourists; music and conversation rumbled loudly around them, and the bright neon displays glaring from every direction advertised all sorts of restaurants and bars, massage parlors, sex shops, pachinko parlors, nightclubs, and various other adult establishments. The night was truly alive and the sights and sounds provided more than enough distraction, so Hiroki felt secure enough to pull his hood back a little, finally feeling the cool air on his damp neck.

The pair was strolling a little ways ahead of him, walking so closely that their arms were practically plastered together. Hiroki frowned, even him and Shinoda never walked in public that way. Being with a woman really must be much easier. Those two could hold hands right now if they wanted and it'd look romantic, instead of disgusting or scandalous.

A man with another man was just weird after all, eh?

Maybe Shinoda felt happier with a woman? With her?

Hiroki wiped his clammy hands on his jeans nervously. Maybe... Shinoda wanted a future, a family... wife and kids and all that. Hiroki knew that he certainly didn't belong in that picture, because this was the one thing that he couldn't give him.

Then as he watched, she stumbled a little in her high heels and Shinoda grabbed her hand to pull her upright. Their fingers lock for a brief moment, and she smiled sweetly up at him.

Hiroki quickly looked away, his chest thumping. The scene left a bitter feeling in his mouth.

 

" _I've told you that I have a policy to not touch my clients. So stop worrying."_

 

A pair of small arms suddenly wrapped themselves around his elbow, startling him, and tugged him to the sidewalk.

"Hey there cutie, why are you all alone on a Saturday night like this?"

Hiroki looked down to see a young lady hanging off his arm, smiling in a flirty manner and batting her long eyelashes up at him. Not two seconds later, her equally skimpily-dressed colleague came over with flyers in hand, her stilettos clicking against the ground as she squealed excitedly, "Why don't you come drink with us?!"

Hiroki gave an awkward smile. "Uh n-no, thank you, I'm actually busy at the moment so…" He tried to gently shake the girl off him but she wouldn't budge, and instead pressed her cleavage onto his arm.

"Let us keep you company tonight, it'll be fun!" she coaxed.

Hiroki craned his neck and saw Shinoda's head jutting a little above the growing crowd, moving further along the road. He tried to free his arm again. "No thanks, I'm actually in a hurry right now."

"Aww baby, if you're meeting up with friends why don't you just call them here? Yuki-chan and I will make sure you boys have fun tonight."

"No, sorry but I really have to go," he refused, his eyes never leaving the crowd. The back of Shinoda's sandy brown head was disappearing from his line of sight, swallowed by the moving human traffic. He needed to catch up to them soon, or he'd risk losing them. Hiroki wondered briefly if they'd be holding hands now, so as to not lose each other in the crowd.

Ah, always with the useless thoughts.

"Come on cutie, we have plenty of girls you can drink with inside!" pleaded Yuki-chan, pouting her glossy lips and pushing his arm deeper between her breasts.

"I said no, sorry but I'm not interested!" Hiroki pulled roughly away, sending the girl tumbling back in surprise and looking scandalized. He did feel a little guilty as the girls were just doing their job, but they really had the worst timing. He ignored their dirty looks and muttered insults and turned his attention back to the crowd, realizing that he couldn't see Shinoda any longer.

"Dammit."

Quickly threading his way back through the chattering swarm of people, he mumbled apologies as he pushed past bodies heading in different directions. He tried to spot the familiar dark blue shirt Shinoda was wearing or the woman's floral dress, but he couldn't see past the throng of slow-moving tourists in front of him _._

 _I can't lose them now_ , _not when I've gotten this far._

Squeezing past a group of rowdy foreigners, Hiroki finally caught a glimpse of familiar sandy brown hair in the distance as it rounded a corner near the next block – and he felt his heart plummet for a second, before picking up and pounding in a sickening tempo against his ribcage when he realized where they were heading.

"No." His eyes widen in panic, and he scrambled forwards to catch up to them, uncaring about the people cussing at him as he shoved them out of the way.

 _N_ _o no no_ , Hiroki shivered, he didn't want to think of that possibility.

 

" _I've told you that I have a policy to not touch my clients. So stop worrying."_

 

He darted through the crowd, the mounting anxiety twisting his stomach into knots, as he willed his body to move as fast as he could – before his foot suddenly snagged on something solid and sent him crashing towards the ground. Hiroki landed on all fours, the momentum propelling him headfirst onto the brick wall of a pub. He groaned loudly, the agony completely eclipsing the embarrassment coursing through him. He'd tripped over a chalkboard advertising the pub's special drinks and happy hour times.

"Oww… fuck."

Gingerly rubbed his aching forehead, Hiroki tried to stand, but his knees wobbled and protested against the overpowering pain on his kneecaps. Passersby glanced at him but none offered to help – they probably thought he was just some drunkard who'd tripped over his own feet.

It was only through sheer anxiety that he managed to quickly pull himself upright and staggered towards the end of the block, one hand holding on to the walls for support. His knees and elbows were throbbing painfully, each step threatening his legs to fold from under him, and the blow to his head had left him feeling a little dizzy – but all that he could think about, was Shinoda.

He saw them way down the road when he turned the corner, walking with their hands entwined, and occasionally stopping to examine display pictures of various themed room interiors.

Love hotels. Love hotels everywhere.

The ground fell away underneath his feet. His mind drew a sudden blank, Hiroki didn't know what to think. He was only aware of his heart, painfully, rapidly, drumming in his chest. His hands trembling with adrenaline.

"No," he mumbled, taking a shaky step forwards. "Wait… Wait, Shinoda!"

Shinoda didn't hear him. Instead, he smiled and pulled at the woman's hand – and she followed him, giggling, nervously smoothing her hair. The two disappeared inside one of the brightly lit buildings.

 

" _I've told you that I have a policy to not touch my clients. So stop worrying."_

 

"No… no way." Hiroki's eyes rounded in disbelief. No way.

Rambunctious laughter rang out from the street behind him as a group of young men passed by. Loud music and lively chatter pulsed the evening air around him, but he couldn't hear any of it, the noise drowned by the shrill ringing in his ears.

_Isn't this what you came to see, Hiroki?_

 

* * *

 

 

Hiroki wasn't sure how he managed to make it back to the train station without falling on his face, but there he was, still stupidly holding onto the bento box he'd bought yesterday at the convenience store, and ambling along a very familiar road. His steps unsteady, he headed towards the university. There were no classes as it was a Sunday, but he just simply felt the need to get some work done. Because nothing beats burying himself in work.

Getting to ni-chome last night wasn't so hard, as it was only less than ten minutes' walk away from Shinjuku station. He'd decided against going home, despite the minor injuries he'd sustained from falling outside the pub, because being stuck alone with his thoughts was the last thing he'd wanted, and a quiet, empty home accommodated that too well.

Hence he'd gone and gotten himself completely wasted; he didn't go to the usual bar, no, because they'd definitely ask what the hell happened to him, and he didn't feel like talking about it to anyone for now. No, not even to Akihiko.

Aside from their mama-san, none of the staff and patrons at the bar he'd gone to recognized or approached him (although the latter is probably due to the constant bitch-face he'd sported, and that questionable blotch on his forehead). But hey, he was fine with that, all he needed was the alcohol and the noise anyway.

A rogue drilling reminiscent of a jackhammer beat incessantly against his skull, and he winced when he accidentally brushed the scraped skin on his forehead. It hurt, just like the anger and betrayal clawing at his insides.

The breeze picked up, scattering dried leaves on the sidewalk, and Hiroki looked up to catch the first rays of sunlight blaze through the horizon in spectacular hues of orange and crimson. It held promises of a beautiful weather if not for the dark, ominous clouds looming in the distance, bringing along an early morning downpour. It was still relatively far off, but the wind carried them across the sky fairly quickly, and even in his inebriated state, Hiroki had enough sense to pick up his pace – he didn't want to get caught in the rain on top of everything else.

Truthfully, what killed him the most, was that he knew there was no chance of salvaging the relationship now. Shinoda had really been sleeping around all this time. Fantasies of that woman writhing and moaning under his lover as he plunged into her played over and over in his mind. He felt nauseous and his chest couldn't stop aching.

It was all over. The end.

Six years down the drain, all that time and sacrifice for nothing. It still felt unreal to him, like it was just a bad dream.

A bead of water plopped on his cheek. Followed by another drop, and another, tracing wet trails down his face _. Was it raining already?_ He squinted up at the sky and held out a palm.

 _They're just tears,_ he realized with a start, when he felt another drop cling to his lashes before sliding down his cheek _._ _So finally the tears are here._

Hiroki remained impassive and he didn't make a sound, but salty drops continued to drip down his face and onto his hoodie. Thankfully it was still so early that nobody was around to see it.

Queasiness overtook him as the alcohol he'd drunk the night before threatened to make its way up his throat. He rested a hand on a store window and wiped the cold sweat beading on his nose, trying to hold back from emptying the contents of his stomach out onto the street.

_Fuck this hangover. Fuck everything._

His fingers clumsily reached for the phone in his pocket.

05.53 a.m. 0 missed calls, 0 messages.

He wasn't sure whether he felt upset or relieved about that. Because even if Shinoda were to call, Hiroki wasn't sure if he was capable of holding a civil conversation with the man.

 _Shinoda_. His chest gave another painful squeeze.

The autumn wind that morning was chilly and seeped through his clothes, making him shiver, and he squinted as the glare from the rising sun blinded his eyes. The crumpled plastic bag with the bento box slapped against his thigh as he staggered on – when another wave of nausea slammed into him like a freight train and he doubled over, retching loudly. Clear liquid splashed onto the pavement and he could taste the bile in his mouth.

A large hand clamped around his wrist. "Hey, are you alright?"

Hiroki glanced up, straight into steely blue eyes laced with concern, which widened the moment they caught sight of his face.

"Ah!" Hastily wiping his face with his sleeve, he blushed furiously. Kamijou fucking Hiroki had been caught crying and puking on the street. Between this and falling down spectacularly in Shinjuku last night, it seemed to him that the universe was bent on shattering his pride somehow.

The tall stranger merely stared at him for a few seconds, before yanking him inside the store closest to them. The front door was open, but by the looks of it, they were still in the middle of setting up for the day. Only some of the lights were turned on and the sign at the door was left as 'closed'. There were flowers, pots and buckets everywhere and half-finished arrangements lay on the counter.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Kusama Nowaki," the man said as he pulled Hiroki past rows of vases flooded with flowers and a table littered with foliage and flower stems.

Hiroki bristled and struggled against the tight grip on his arm. "Wait a second! Oi! Heyy! Wha- what the hell are you doing?!"

He really wasn't in the mood to cater to the spontaneous whims of a stranger. Not to mention his headache was getting worse.

The man Kusama just silently dragged him to the back of the store, and sat him down on a chair next to a small kitchenette. Bending down to eye level, he tousled Hiroki's hair gently.

His face was close, way too close.

"It's alright," he said, then smiled.

Despite how sick he was feeling, Hiroki felt his breath catch in his throat. The smile was beautiful and dazzling, just like… _his_. But rather than devilishly charming, it was sweet and so, so kind. He found it strangely discomforting.

He quickly pushed the man back and looked away. "I'm not in the mood for this. What do you want?"

"Please allow me to tend to your wounds," the tall man answered, already retrieving a first-aid kit from a cabinet. He pushed a plastic bag into Hiroki's hand. "If you feel sick, please use this," he offered, pulling up a stool to sit in front of him, their knees slightly touching.

Hiroki didn't say a word, too tired to argue. And when gentle fingers began cleaning the wound on his forehead, his eyes slowly slid shut, a weary sigh escaping his lips.

Carefully dabbing antiseptic onto the scraped skin, Nowaki took the time to observe the smaller man's face. His features were rather feminine for a man, and with the narrow nose and full lips, he looked beautiful, almost sultry if he might say so himself. The quivering eyelashes were clumped together in dark, wet bundles and slightly arched brows were drawn together in a tense frown. Nowaki didn't quite know why, but he wanted to kiss the tension away.

"What happened?" he asked softly, securing gauze over the wound with strips of medical tape. "Did someone beat you up?"

Swollen eyelids snapped open to reveal an indignant glare. "I didn't get beaten up, you idiot!" the man shouted, swatting Nowaki's hand away. "I was just looking for someone and I… I tripped," he finished quietly, his mouth set in a grim line.

Giving a small apologetic smile, Nowaki gently reached for his arm, peering at the elbow wound. "Oh, I'm sorry I just made assumptions." He doused a fresh cotton ball in antiseptic and looked up only to catch burnt sienna orbs staring at him, their eyes meeting for a split second before the other looked away.

Nowaki chuckled softly. "So may I know your name?" he asked.

The man paused, anxiously licking his dry lips. He gave Nowaki a fleeting glance before looking away towards the door. "Kamijou Hiroki."

"Ah, Kamijou-san then. Would you like some water, Kamijou-san?"

Hiroki fidgeted, one foot tapping the floor restlessly – he didn't know why but talking to Kusama made him feel oddly unsettled. Nervous.

"Yes, please," he replied, watching the long, thick fingers wrap a roll of bandages around the crook of his elbow.

Nowaki stood up and returned with a glass of water and an aspirin. "It'll help with the pain," he said kindly, before going back to dressing Hiroki's other wounds. Those large hands were warm against his skin, and when he stole another peek at the florist, he found those blue eyes already trained on his face.

A loud crash of thunder roared without warning and the sky unleashed sudden torrents of rain onto the ground below, the overcast darkening the room considerably. Hiroki blushed under the intense gaze and looked away, feeling his heart skip a beat. Kusama Nowaki was strange. Too tender, too intense and too _open_. He wasn't used to this.

"Kamijou-san – "

 _Bzzzt._ He felt a vibration against his thigh and Hiroki's heart unwillingly leapt to his throat. Swiftly pulling it out of his pocket, he checked the screen. 1 new message. _Shinoda_.

 

**_Hiroki_ **

**_sorry for not answering your calls last night, I fell asleep once I got home from the meeting. Woke up to this crazy storm, just wanted to check in with you. Btw the last time I was over I aired out some of your extra futons so I hope you've remembered to bring them in. Love you, talk to you later._ **

 

Hiroki squeezed his eyes shut, the hand gripping his phone tightening. The stupid bastard. The last time Shinoda had come over had been 3 weeks ago, of course he'd brought the futons back in. That idiot.

"Kamijou-san."

He couldn't answer the calls because he fell asleep once he got home from the meeting? Hiroki scoffed, yeah more like he ignored the calls because he was busy having sex with someone else. That fucking liar.

He clenched his fists, fingernails digging into his palms. Shinoda had sex with someone else last night.

"Kamijou-san?"

' _Love you, talk to you later.'_ Love you. _Love you_. The frown etched between his brows deepened and Hiroki felt tears leak out the corners of his eyes. That fucking asshole –

"Hiro-san!"

Warm palms suddenly enveloped the sides of his face, and Hiroki's eyes flutter open to find himself almost nose to nose with the taller man. He jumped out of his seat, his face flushing crimson.

"What are you playing at?!"

Nowaki only looked up at him with wide eyes. "You seem like you're hurting, Hiro-san."

Glaring at him, Hiroki rolled the sleeves of his hoodie back down his arms. "Don't call me that and act all chummy with me unless I say you can."

"I'm sorry Kamijou-san. It's just that you didn't seem to hear me when I kept calling you." Nowaki placed the roll of medical tape back into the kit and gazed at him intently. "You were crying, was I hurting you?"

Hiroki quickly wiped the tears off his face and picked up his bento box. "No, it's not you, you didn't hurt me at all," he mumbled, before bending in a slight bow. "Kusama-san, thank you for taking care of me."

Nowaki's eyes widened as he stood up, effectively towering over the assistant professor. "Kamijou-san, you're not thinking of leaving now, are you? Because it's raining so heavily right now," he pointed out, gesturing towards the windows. True enough, gusts of wind carried the raindrops in diagonal sheets outside, violently splattering the glass panes.

Hiroki bit his lip as another stray tear rolled silently down his face. He guessed it was a pretty bad idea to walk out in the middle of a downpour like this.

"Kamijou-san."

Nowaki curled his fingers around the other man's slender wrist. "Kamijou-san, please stop crying. Was it the sender of that message who hurt you?"

Stunned, Hiroki looked up at him, his lips parted in surprise. "What?"

The drill of rain on the roof sounded deafeningly loud in the room. In a sort of daze, Nowaki couldn't take his eyes off those plush lips, feeling an inexplicable urge to kiss and suck on them. He took a step closer, their chests almost touching, and gently thumbed the tears off those rapidly flushing cheeks.

Hiroki's heart pounded in his chest as the other man whispered in a low voice, "Please… allow me to tend to your wounds, Kamijou-san." Those steely blue eyes held a meaningful glint, and Hiroki's mouth felt suddenly dry _._

_Is this man… is this man romantically interested in me?_

Feeling the heat spread across his face, he pulled his hand out of Nowaki's grasp and glowered at him. "It's none of your business. I'm leaving," he growled, half-running towards the door, wrenching it open.

Nowaki scrambled after him and mentally cursed himself. "Wait, Kamijou-san!" he called out. "Kamijou-san, I'm sorry, please at least take an umbrella with you!" Grabbing two umbrellas from behind the counter, he ran after the other man out the door, the bell tinkling loudly as he slammed it shut.

The moment he stepped out the building, the rain wasted no time in drenching Hiroki to the bone, completely saturating his clothing from head to toe. The drops felt icy and hard, like the tips of dull needles against the exposed skin on his face, mingling with the tears. His cheeks burn, even as his body trembled in the freezing cold. What was that man thinking? Meddling into his life and invading his personal space like that when they'd just met!

"Kamijou-san!"

Hiroki begrudgingly looked back to see Nowaki dashing after him, holding an open umbrella in one hand, and an unused one in the other. The assistant professor turned around and walked faster, his shoulders hunched.

"Kamijou-san! Please take this!" Nowaki gasped as he caught up to him, thrusting the umbrella above his head and giving him momentary relief from the relentless icy pinpricks on his scalp. But Hiroki spun around and snarled, swatting it out of his hand, and the umbrella landed on the ground upside down. Water quickly pooled onto the canopy, submerging the metal framework, its stem slightly swaying in the wind. Nowaki stared at him, speechless.

"What are you trying to do?" demanded Hiroki harshly, blinking rainwater out of his eyes.

The other man lowered his gaze towards his feet and bowed deeply. "I'm truly sorry, Kamijou-san, I just hate seeing you cry," he replied morosely, the rain soaking his dark hair and forming rivulets down his waterproof jacket. Straightening up, he covered his face with one hand, a slight pink tingeing his cheeks. "And… and I really like you Kamijou-san. You were blushing so much and so I thought –"

He stopped and shook his head quickly, looking somewhat like a drenched puppy. "It doesn't matter, I'm sorry if my behavior disgusted you," he continued, bowing slightly again. "I hope you don't feel threatened by me and please, feel free to drop by if you need anything, anything at all."

Fumbling with the straps of the unused umbrella, he snapped it open, and shoved it at Hiroki's free hand, forcibly wrapping his fingers around the handle.

"Oi."

"Please use this, I don't want your wounds getting wet."

"Hey – "

Taking off his jacket, Nowaki wrapped it around Hiroki's shoulders.

"Hey you idiot! What –"

The taller man's lips lifted in a quiet smile. "Your clothes are sopping wet, you'll get sick if you keep walking like that. This is the least I can do. Take care, Kamijou-san."

Hiroki just stared at him wide-eyed, the hand gripping the umbrella shaking slightly. "Hey wait, Kusama-san!"

Nevertheless Nowaki just gave him a small wave and turned to jog back down the street, holding his arms above his head, the rain quickly drenching through his plain black shirt.

"Oi! Hey!" Hiroki shouted after him, but he didn't look back.

Raindrops pelted the ground, bouncing off the pavement like fine mist. Hiroki's heart was racing, and the jacket still felt warm with Nowaki's body heat, scorching his skin. His cheeks flush as he breathed in the smell of rain, and a slight musky scent.

Kusama Nowaki was strange. Too tender, too intense and too _open_. He wasn't used to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm sorry once again if the beginning bores you T.T
> 
> I swear the flashbacks are over, now we can get the ball rolling. Back to the present and we'll have the Romantica couple next chapter.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Any suggestions highly welcomed! :D

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: For those who don't know who Shinoda is, he is featured in the manga, and used to hook up with Hiroki back in his uni days. Later on it's shown that Shinoda has a child.
> 
> Please leave kudos if you like it, it makes me happy ;D  
> I'm an amateur who just started writing fiction and so if you have some time please kindly leave me feedback :)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this and thank you for reading! \\(^0^)/


End file.
